


I love you (Jk, I hate your guts)

by Sona_Boobelle (orphan_account)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M, Multi, OOC :(, lol Malzahar acts like a schoolgirl, more characters later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Sona_Boobelle
Summary: Malzahar is infatuated with Kassadin, but he hates the man at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> omg, i forgot to post this on ao3 D: but anyway, i suck at writing, but enjoy anyway :3c

Kassadin was pretty, Malzahar thinks to himself. He gazes at the champion besides him as they were purchasing their items, the usual, corrupting potion. The Prophet likes how the man’s arms flex when they engage in battle, fighting minions or slaying other champions, they were all quite a good show.

Malzahar sighs, and he nearly dies to the chickens in the Jungle from his daze. He fixes his mistake, and flushes when his eyes make contact with the Void Walker’s own, fortunately his cowl and hood concealed his embarrassment. 

They’re on opposite teams now, the next game. Malzahar is mid lane, against Kassadin. He won’t let his emotions get in the way of his job, so he makes quick work of his abilities, a multitude of his voidling swarm around the latter as his malefic visions would take effect. No, they weren’t very malefic, because Malzahar wasn’t concentrating enough, he was still stuck on how nicely shaped the man was, how likeable they were to other champions. His mistake is noticeable, because Kassadin doesn’t seem to be affected. Malzahar gasps audibly, and his tears come hot to his eyes, he fucked this up real bad. 

Malzahar throws down his silence, but Kassadin doesn’t miss a beat and he dodges it nimbly, warping up close where the Prophet could hear the other’s slow breathing clearly. The man presses his blade against the seer’s neck and Malzahar trembles, no, not like this. He felt humiliated by his own mistake, but found some comfort by the fact that the other didn’t seem to react much. Kassadin has Malzahar backed against a wall, some dirt crumbling from how the Prophet was pushed against forcibly. Malzahar chokes on his breath, but regains his composure eventually, though it doesn’t matter. He’s lost this fight, he’s entirely in the latter’s hands.

“You’re a weird one, Prophet.” Kassadin hums, and Malzahar lightens. So they’re not entirely grossed out– A quick strike through the chest is what it takes for the seer to be sent coiling into purple particles, waiting to respawn at the fountain. 

After the game, the summoners disconnect to go join a new game while the champions are left to do whatever they please. The game is over, so there is no more bloodshed, the two teams are now neutral. Mos of the champions now hang out at middle lane, the turrets neutralized so anyone could go and pass as they wished. It was only Yasuo from Malzahar’s team that left the Rift, sour about the defeat. 

Malzahar glances up as a shadow passes over him, and his gaze is met by Kassadin. The Prophet feels their face getting hot again, and just from the memory he wants to get as far away as possible from this man. ‘What happened?’ He knows what the other will ask, so he answers them before the words could even leave their mouth. Though it’s not exactly how he wanted his response to be, a bunch of stammering and trembling. Why was he acting like this? A sniveling stuttering fool? Just because of one mistake? “H-ha-ah, hh- I,” Malzahar finds himself saying, he couldn’t even form comprehensible words. “Don’t worry about it.” Kassadin responds calmly, and the man claps a hand on the seer’s back that snaps them briefly out their daze. 

“We all make mistakes, don’t we?”

“A-ah, yes." 

Malzahar feels relieved that Kassadin doesn’t pry the topic any further. No wonder he’s likeable, Malzahar thinks, but he pushes everyone away. The Prophet then had a goal to make the latter his friend, he wanted that. He didn’t push people away, the Void did. The seer likes how close Kassadin is, he could feel their warmth radiating off their frame. But he knew, that Kassadin would never be his, so far out of reach. Who would want to be with the person who murdered your child and village? 

He wants Kassadin to forget that.

He wants to start anew.

He wants to feel love.

He knows that the Void will eventually dump him as it’s puppet once he’s involved with romantic affairs with another, his job was only to serve the Void as it’s vessel, after Valoran has been terrorized and seized by said force, his duties will be done, and he shall be slaughtered. Pretty sad, isn’t it? But he wants that, anything, just for a taste on how it really feels to be loved, in the arms of a lover, instead of the wrath of the Void. 

Tears slip down his cheeks, and they soak into his cowl, strands of his hair plaster to his cheeks as well during this. When had he been crying? He didn’t notice. "Malzahar?” Kassadin touches their hand as an attempt to get their attention. “Is everything okay?” For some reason, this encourages the Prophet’s tear flow, and Malzahar just lets it happen. His sobbing is pitiful, and the Void Walker lightly pushes their head against his chest.

Malzahar likes how the other smells, he presses his nose against the crook of the man’s neck as his crying seems ceases over time, his body shudders. “Kassadin.” He says finally after a long silence. 

“Hm?”

“Could… I stay at your house?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you, it’s just for tonight, if that’s okay.” The seer whispers the last part, and he flinches when the man talks again, their voice is loud, per produced by the mask. “Of course." 

All champions leave the Rift, off to do whatever. 

Malzahar floats towards the couch, criss crossing his legs as he’d float above the furniture. Kassadin hums, "I don’t have a spare bed, so you’ll have to sleep here.” Malzahar nods in acknowledgement, and he elevates lower so he could physically touch the cushions of the couch. “Thank you.”

Kassadin waves a hand. “It’s nothing. You did something for me, so this is compromise.” Malzahar flushes, that’s right, he took the other in when the snow was particularly heavy. 

He remembers when they shared a bed, slept together, close together. 

But only because Kog'Maw took over his couch.

“Hhh, guess so.” Malzahar hugs a pillow against his chest, and it smells of Kassadin. Warm, soft smells that reminds him of Shurima, nothing cold like the Void. 

“I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thank you." 

It doesn’t take long for night to fall.  
Kassadin isn’t much of a cook, neither was Malzahar, so the two dined on Ionian cuisine that was ordered. Malzahar didn’t need food to sate his bodily functions, but he ate anyway. For maybe the second time in his life, he sees the other unmasked, and it’s a rough face that’s changed by the Void. But Malzahar would do anything to kiss that face anyway. 

He’s settled comfortably under the covers after tossing out the paper cartons, Kassadin is at one end of the couch, just making sure everything’s alright. Malzahar feels like a child, being spoilt with the tendencies of the man. But he doesn’t mind. "Kassadin.” He says.

“Hm?”

“How does your mask work?" 

He knows how it works, he knows that the mask restricts the inflow of the Void’s influence, that was why Kassadin hadn’t become one of it’s puppets like him. Kassadin seems to get at what they were actually asking, so a hand hesitantly reaches over to touch his own, lifting to behind their mask. "Clasps.” Kassadin’s touch guides the Prophet’s nervous fingers to undo those clasps, and the man’s mask comes undone. Oh, their face was more pretty when up close, Malzahar thinks to himself, and a sudden urge to kiss the man rises. Guessing that the male was satisfied, Kassadin began to pull back his mask when the seer’s lips gently graced his own. His hand stilled on his metal headpiece, and Malzahar stopped his efforts after realizing the latter wasn’t responding to his actions. He fucked this one up too, he thinks frantically to himself, he thought it was a good moment– 

But a soft smile lights the Void Walker’s face. “You’re cute, Prophet.” He says finally, he gets up though, with mask back in place. Malzahar’s heart flutters briefly, he didn’t mess up as bad as he thought. The man reaches over to ruffle his hair, tussling up the seer’s brown locks in slight affection. “But we can’t.” Malzahar senses a bit of hardness to that statement, so the giddy feeling in his gut stops. He won’t blame Kassadin, if someone was to murder a loved one, he would definitely hold a grudge against that said individual. But he never had a loved one, he doesn’t know how it feels to love. He’s just a shell with the Void’s corruption swirling inside him.  
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have. I… you just, I just had the urge…” He says, his eyes look downcast. 

Kassadin chuckles lightly, “Honestly, you say too much.” His tone is lighter this time, though it does nothing much to comfort the Prophet. “Go take a shower, your hair is oily.” Kassadin offers a hand for the other to take, but when they hesitate to offer their hand, the man sighs. “Stubborn, stubborn.” In a quick sweep, Kassadin has Malzahar in his arms in a bridal style sort of way, the seer’s face flares, not necessarily in anger. “Hh–” His arms wound around the man’s neck instinctively, not keen about being dropped, though he could always float but whatever. Kassadin gives a kick of his foot and the bathroom door swings open to let the pair enter, he sets Malzahar down on a counter. When he sees the other still unresponsive, a confused mess, the man laughs. “Do you want me to help you undress as well?”

“Ye. Join me.” Malzahar says, and this catches Kassadin off guard, he smiles, though it’s hidden behind his mask. “I’m not going to help you undress,” He snorts, “but I’ll join you.” There’s a shower and a tub in the bathroom, both relatively big. Malzahar wonders what happened to the 'I can’t’ from the man, but doesn’t question it, not like they’re going to do anything when bathing.  
He tugs off his cowl, setting it on a rack, along with other articles of clothing, except for his pants, he kept on, just because he didn’t want to be the only one naked in the room, a slight blush dusts his cheeks as he watches the other strip, Kassadin isn’t wearing much except for his belt and the bottom, which was successfully ditched with just a tug. Malzahar averts his gaze, tugging his his pants off as he’d then join the man in the shower. 

The water runs coolly down their backs, and Malzahar shudders. He feels a hand in his hair, mopping some shampoo through his locks and he makes a small noise of contentment. It smells of roses and memories when he was younger as his mother took care of him. “Do it yourself now, I need to tend to myself.” Kassadin chuckles lightly, and Malzahar hums in acknowledgment. His fingers tread through his own hair and his brows crinkle when he encounters a knot. A spray of water hits his face and the male sputters and stumbles back a bit, back pressed against Kassadin’s chest in his haste. “Sorry.” The man apologizes, though with some amusement. Malzahar isn’t mad, just a bit surprised when that happened. Soap and bubbles flow down their hair as the water rinses it away, it feels nice, Malzahar thinks to himself. 

The shower was quick, and the pair move into the tub which was already filled with water. When Kassadin tells him that he could add bubbles, Malzahar does so, and squeezes out a generous amount of the solution. Soon enough, the tub seems about to burst with the amount of bubbles it held and Malzahar snorted, laughing. “You’re just like a kid.” This wakes the Prophet up from their trance, and their face would heat up, cheeks puffed in defense as they’d think of a retort. “But it’s cute.” Kassadin says before Malzahar could think of a reply, and the seer huffs, the bottle slipping from his grasp. Malzahar sighs in defeat as its lost underwater, he doesn’t want to make an attempt to search for it… since the tub wasn’t exactly suited for two grown men, it was a small space, and the Prophet wasn’t too keen on grabbing something that wasn’t the bottle. The Void Walker catches up on the other’s uncertainty and he chuckles, “I’ll look for it." 

The man rummages his hand throughout the water, careful not to touch any sensitive bits of the other, as the seer twitches with paranoia and tries to scoot to the side. He can’t help but laugh some, fingers touching the familiar surface of something smooth and cool, the man retrieves the bottle and sets it on the floor with an arm. Though Kassadin leaned uncomfortably close against Malzahar, the seer squeaked, and Kassadin leaned back, arms spread on the rim of the tub as he’d observe how the latter’s face reddened. "Are you okay? Is the water too hot?” He muses, and Malzahar shakes his head. “Just shut up Kass.” Malzahar says stiffly, but in a fluid motion he leans closer against the man and presses yet another kiss upon their lips. It’s the same, Kassadin doesn’t kiss back, but he’s not exactly objecting to what’s happening. It makes the seer confused. 

“Um.” Malzahar says, he’s practically in the man’s lap now, his hands cupping the other’s face. Kassadin tilts his head, and he kisses the Prophet’s palm as it’s against his cheek. Oh, he’ll accept that, Malzahar thinks to himself, and a sense of satisfaction washes over him. But what’s really on his mind was the 'We can’t do this’ statement from the other, was Kassadin celibate or something? Then why were the both of them naked in a tub? Malzahar wants to criticize the Void Walker but they speak up first. “I meant we can’t be a thing. But we can still make love.” The man’s voice is idle and Malzahar… has some sort of understanding on what they’re trying to say and mean. So, he couldn’t date the other and whatnot, this was just a one night stand, okay, fine by him. “Oh.” Malzahar says, and he’s not sure what to say after. 

Kassadin makes up for the other’s lack of words, his hands gripping their waist as he’d pull them flush against his chest. Malzahar could feel his face heat up, a shade darker, if even possible- “But, why?” He finds himself asking. “You… didn’t give 'us’ a chance yet.” His voice trails off to something meek in tone. Kassadin kisses the Prophet’s jaw, and they’d shudder. “You’re very forgetful, Prophet.” The man presses a thumb against the seer’s lips, which a tongue gratefully slips out to lick. “We were something, but it was soiled.” A look of disdain crosses his face but it’s quickly covered up. “When you succumbed to the Void." 

Malzahar doesn’t know why, but a twinge of pain tugs at his chest. "I, we were? I don’t…” Oh, was he amnesic? His hands fall to the man’s shoulders as he’d process what he had jus learned. Kassadin presses another kiss to Malzahar’s jaw, though it’s a little higher up to their lips. “You’re under the influence of the Void, sometimes you’re you, other times, it’s actually the Void."  
"I know that… it’s to serve the Void, Kassadin. They gave me so much-”

“Then they’ll take it away when you serve your purpose.”

“…Stop.”

“Malzahar, you’re a sweet kid, why’d you-" 

"Stop.”

“Malzahar, please, listen to me.”

Their name on the man’s lips only make his blood boil, the fluttery feeling in his stomach was long gone, replaced with rage. Malzahar wants to get away as far as possible from him, and the seer pushes aggressively against Kassadin. “Don’t touch me.” Kassadin drops his hold on their waist, and Malzahar takes the chance to rise from the water, grabbing a towel and winding it around his waist before making a grab for his clothes and towards the door. Kassadin doesn’t stop him.

And Malzahar doesn’t say goodbye when he leaves their house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malzahar bounces onto another dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) wat happen to quality of my writing

☆*:.｡. Chapter 2 .｡.:*☆

Days, weeks go by after Malzahar went to Kassadin's house, and none of them had seen each other since, ( mostly because Malzahar did everything to try to avoid the man ). The Prophet recycles in lovers during the time, ranging from female to male. Talon was the first one he had wooed, but they rarely saw each other outside of the League. Which meant they never got to cuddle or anything, boo. So Malzahar cut things off. 

His next was Sona, well was going to be- until he realized that the Maven was already taken by another. His back still feels sore after being kicked out of bot lane by Lee Sin. 

His third was Darius, things were... something. Maybe he shouldn't have acted that way towards Kassadin, maybe he ought to apologize to the man right now, they were assigned mid lane while he was the Jungler. The Prophet heaves himself off the log he sits on, only to step in something gross and wet. Malzahar looks down, only for his sights to be greeted with a puddle of blood. Was... was he just hit by an enemy? Was that the cause of blood? Oh nevermind, it was just Vladimir.   
The said man materializes from the puddle of red, forming a figure of flesh and clothes. They grin sheepishly. "What's up Prophet?" Malzahar looks at Vladimir with an incredulous expression. "Nothing much." Vladimir snorts at that, not buying it, "I'm pretty sure for a person like you, there's a lot going on beneath the skin." He flashes a charming smile, those fangs peeking from his upper lip. Malzahar takes a moment to comprehend what the other had just said, only to laugh- just lightly. "Just go back to your lane, yea? The kinki ninja man is getting a lot of cs from your absence." Vladimir grins, "Kinky? You mean /Kinkou/?" 

And the Prophet of the Void laughs, a geniune laugh that he never knew he had after his small 'break up' with Kassadin.  
"Oh geez, you knew what I meant..." 

"... Heh." 

And that was the start of an unlikely friendship between an Icathian prophet and a Noxian hemomancer. 

Because they both had horrible, unfunny humor.   
\---  
"So you're not a vampire?" 

"Nope, so you can get that garlic out my face." 

"Oh."  
\---   
"Ever kissed someone?" 

"Yea."

"Wanna kiss me?"

"Hell yea."  
\---   
And maybe a start of something better, than just friends. 

It doesn't take long for news to spread, because well, the female champions were thots and loved gossip. Taric too.   
\---  
In a cafe, somewhere within the Institute.   
Perfect for chilling and gossiping.

Which Ahri and Syndra both delighted it.   
"Can't believe... Vlad got with- Malzahar." The Dark Sovereign says with a hint of disgust. 

"Well, I think it's great!" Ahri pipes in, ears flicking forward from excitement. She's literally bouncing up and down in her seat. "Now, that drat Void boy will stop moping all over the place!" The Vixen spins herself in her seat, squealing all the while until she was stopped by a stern hand that belonged to her friend, Syndra. "Ahri, that's making me nauseous, please stop." 

"Sure thing!" Ahri gives a swift salute before passing out over the table, apparently dazed from all the whirling. Syndra physically facepalms. "Oh gods, what am I going to do with you." 

"Hopefully not rape me while I'm passed out!" Ahri says before passing out for real this time. 

Syndra stares at her friend for a long time before a ring of the bell positioned above the door to the building caught her attention. The woman looked towards the entry way, but then whatever left of her mood dropped. "Well, well. If it isn't Vladdy and Malzy." She jeered, and the female straighted up her posture, looming over both males easily, as her height was 5'9, and with levitation, she exceeded that original amount by a lot. She smiled at the two men. 

"Who's that?" Vladimir turns towards Malzahar to ask, and the seer shrugs, eyes glued onto Syndra all the while. "Sandra, the Dork Sovereign, not sure." The pair snickers. 

It wasn't even that funny, Syndra thinks to herself, and her anger flares. 

"What the hell are you dweebs even doing here?" The woman crosses her arms as she waits for an answer. "As far as I know, you- Malzahar don't even need sustenance, you're basically IMMORTAL, and Vladimir- you're a fucking vampire!! This place doesn't serve blood!!"

Vladimir shrugs, "Not a vampire. I'm a hemomancer, and I practice the-"

"Yea, I don't care. You're a vampire."  
Vladimir frowns, but it disappears when Malzahar then gives him a quick peck on his cheek. (Gross)

Syndra thinks she vomited a little in her mouth, she swallows her disgust before coughing violently into the back of her hand. "Ugh-" She's interuppted again, but this time from another champion that had entered the Cafe. She can't help but stare, because the man was Malzahar's ex... lover? Friend? Fling? Yea, she didn't want to get involved in a fight over some pathetic reason such as love. Good thing Ahri was still unconscious, or else the girl would've exploded all over the place and screamed "FIGHT FOR LOVE!!!" 

So Syndra continues coughing violently, making her way towards Ahri, and slinging the girl over her shoulder before floating out the building nervously. 

Kassadin watches the two women dash out the door with a hint of confusion, until his gaze falls upon Malzahar, and for a long moment the pair both stared at each other. Before Malzahar looked away, and seated himself in a chair next to Vladimir.   
Malzahar slumped down in his seat, and the hemomancer picked up on their mood. "Is that Kassadin? Wanna ditch?" Vladimir whispers while eyeing the said man.   
"No. I wanted to enjoy a cup here with you..." Malzahar huffed and stared at Kassadin while their back was turned. He couldn't deny that his feelings were still there for the Void Walker. He was just- a bit too stubborn to admit defeat just yet. So Vladimir rolled his eyes in exasperation. "The sexual tension is real." 

"What sexual tension?"

"You've been ogling Kassadin for the past 5 minutes."

"No I haven't- it was just looking-" 

Vladimir wiggles his eyebrows, giving the prophet a cheeky grin. "Looking at that fine-"

"Vlad, you're so gross." Malzahar complained, and the hemomancer snickers, elbows leaning against the table. "Tell me something I don't know." They stick out a tongue, and it peeked from between their two fangs. 

"You're a vampire." Malzahar says with finality, after some thought. He grins, and Vladimir snorts. "Oh god, not these jokes again. Stay here while I order." So the man then slides out of his seat, and steps towards the line, where Kassadin stood, also waiting to order. Vladimir didn't feel disdain towards the man because they dissed his void bae, just a sense of HEAVY SIGHING. So, what's the best way to break the ice? Making polite conversation— which Vladimir gladly did. 

"Malzahar wants a piece of that void cock." Vladimir whispers, and Kassadin whirls on him, expression baffled. "What?" They reply, and Vladimir smiles. "Malzahar wants you back." The hemomancer can hear Malzahar screeching in his ear already. 

"I, um." Kassadin says, and his brows are furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand-" 

Vladimir grins devilishly. "You don't need to understand." And the man promptly grabs the Void Walker's arm and tugs them towards Malzahar, who was internally screeching from fear. What a cutie pie!

Vladimir forces Kassadin to sit besides Malzahar. And the pair stare at each other for a long, long time until Vladimir whispers, "Now kiss." 

Kassadin was naturally repulsed. "What the hell?" 

Malzahar punched Kassadin on their arm. "What do you mean 'what the hell?'" The prophet shoved the man off their seat, and Kassadin landed on the floor with an 'oof' before wheezing as Malzahar then scrambled on top of them, proceeding to choke the man. "Fucker!! PLENTY OF PEOPLE WANT TO KISS ME!!" 

Then Malzahar was kicked out of PoroBucks. 

Vladimir recorded the whole thing and posted it on the internet. It went viral. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I want to die


End file.
